A Moment of Clarity
by SithMasterJosh
Summary: Get a glimpse of life in the galaxy had Vader survived the destruction of the second Death Star in this twist on a missing scene story.


**A Moment of Clarity**

*Please note that the character of Darth Krayt is NOT the Darth

Krayt of the Legacy series of comics, a.k.a. A'sharad Hett 

"Find them!" he roared. His artificial baritone bounced around the cavernous throne room in a thousand dissipating echoes; the fury boiling out of the ebony-shrouded creature erupted like a volcano.

A trembling man stood before the black beast, weathering the outburst with as much dignity as he could manage. "Yes, My Emperor!" the man gulped. His Majesty was in another of his moods, which seemed to come more and more frequently these days. "We are tracking down several dozen leads as we speak!"

For a handful of endless heartbeats the throne room fell quiet, the deafening silence punctuated by the Emperor's mechanical breathing. When he spoke next, his tone dipped to sub-freezing levels. "I am not interested in leads, Colonel. I want _results_!"

The officer, Colonel Garv Mynd, paled, his face growing ashen and sickly with fear. "Y-yes, Milord. We shall double our efforts."

"Be sure that you do, Colonel," the Emperor growled, his eyes managed to bore into the cowering colonel despite remaining hidden behind polarized plasteel lenses. The man gave a shaky military bow and left the audience chamber as fast as his trembling legs would carry him.

Darth Vader, reigning Dark Lord of the Sith and Emperor of the Galactic Empire, sat back in his throne, resting the flared neck of his helmet rather awkwardly on the headrest. The first time he had lowered himself onto the imposing seat after seizing the throne, he was shocked to discover how uncomfortable it actually was, particularly for someone of his size and build. The throne itself was constructed from duranium and integrated with dozens of features, including a comm unit with a military-grade encrypter/decrypter, holo-recorder transmitter and receiver, a tap into the HoloNet, and a feature which even Vader had been previously unaware of, a low-grade limited-life defense shield of similar design to those of Clone Wars-era droidekas. The padding of the throne seemed almost to be an afterthought, consisting of thin memfoam strips upholstered in black bantha leather which were set lengthwise into the seat and backrest of the throne. The result was minimalist but extremely intimidating. And, as Vader discovered after destroying Palpatine and taking possession of the infernal thing, extraordinarily uncomfortable. In the four years he had reigned as Emperor, he had made a mental note a thousand times to get the throne and each of its brothers sitting in identical throne rooms across the Empire redesigned and replaced. But with the war raging on more fervently than ever, the issue always fell by the wayside.

_The war_. Vader almost scoffed aloud. Endor was supposed to be the Empire's ultimate triumph over the terrorist Rebellion. Instead, it had been the site of a humiliating and demoralizing Imperial defeat that sent a flood of new systems rallying to the Rebels' cause. It was the site of more Imperial losses than the previous four years combined, which _included_ the destruction of the first Death Star. Counted among the Imperial casualties were some of the best and brightest in the Imperial Navy, all serving aboard the doomed Imperial flagship _Executor_, which had disastrously plunged into the Death Star in a spectacular explosion that had rocked the massive battle station like a groundquake. Besides the crew of the _Executor_, thousands more were lost aboard hundreds of ships and starfighters destroyed in the battle and over a million beings lost their lives when the Death Star itself went nova in orbit around the forest moon. The most prominent loss, and many would still argue the most devastating to the Empire, had been Emperor Palpatine. Vader himself had very nearly died. It was only with the help of his son, Luke Skywalker, that he had managed to destroy Palpatine and survive the Death Star's destruction at the hands of Rebel pilots.

The Sith Lord rotated the throne around to gaze out across the sprawling durasteel landscape of mid-morning Imperial City. The skies over Coruscant were as busy as ever, buzzing with billions of craft swarming over the planet-wide city like so many firegnats. From here, Vader could almost forget the Empire was at war.

He sneered behind his mask. _The blasted war_. It wasn't enough that the Rebels had defeated the Empire at the Battle of Endor, but after the death of the Emperor and Vader's ascension to the throne, the Empire itself began to shatter. Palpatine's supporters, those who saw the old man as more of a deity than a man—an image cultivated and encouraged by Palpatine himself—vehemently opposed Vader taking the throne. There were even those who blatantly accused Vader of killing the Emperor himself. While the accusations may have been true, Vader had insisted that His Majesty had perished in the explosion of the space station and so it came down to his word against theirs. Fortunately for him, the only person aside from Vader himself who knew the truth of what transpired in that throne room wasn't talking.

It was a flimsy story full of holes large enough to drive a speeder through, Vader knew, but it was next to impossible to prove that he had assassinated the Emperor himself. They had only his word to go on, and as Palpatine's second-in-command, he was the Emperor's obvious heir. It didn't hurt matters that no one, not even his most outspoken opponents, were brave enough to physically challenge Vader's authority.

However, to his unending annoyance, that didn't keep them from challenging him politically from afar. Sate Pestage, whom Vader suspected always assumed _he_ would take the throne once Palpatine died, was his strongest opponent with the most influence in the Imperial machine. One of the few beings Palpatine surrounded himself with who knew his secret identity as Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith, Pestage knew all too well the sort of power Vader wielded. A devilishly intelligent and calculating man, Pestage never allowed himself to be physically anywhere near the Sith Lord, always staying well outside the range of Vader's grip. Even direct communication with the Dark Lord via comm or hologram could be fatal; such was the limitless reach of the Force.

The former Grand Vizier had considerable support amongst the Moffs and military leaders; indeed, Vader was particularly hated in the Imperial Armed Forces. A being was hard-pressed to find a captain, admiral, general, or lieutenant in the Army or Navy who didn't know _someone_ who had seen or heard of the Dark Lord's trademark temper. The Empire's top military officers loathed his wanton disregard for Imperial lives, which carried with it a certain element of irony given that more than a few of them were only in their current position _because_ Vader had choked the life out of their predecessor for one reason or another.

Sometime within the last two years, Pestage had used these connections to effectively found a shadow government with himself at the head. While drawing the line at formally breaking away from the Empire, he and his followers worked tirelessly to oppose and undermine Vader at every turn. But it would seem Pestage and his group were growing more bold and had begun to oppose the Emperor in a less subtle manner; Colonel Mynd had just been informing Lord Vader of the recent disappearance of at least seven Imperial battle fleets, over sixty ships in all. Though the oily Grand Vizier hadn't yet claimed responsibility, Vader didn't need the Force to know he was behind the disappearances. Pestage had finally made his move and its message was clear; the Empire was now fighting a two-front war.

Darth Krayt eased his starfighter out the massive belly hanger of the ISD _Firestorm_ and accelerated into the debris field of what was, just three hours before, an Imperial reconnaissance group. The six small _Gevrak_-class cruisers, specially commission ships outfitted with top-of-the-line sensor stealth and intelligence-gathering technology, were scouting the Sebiim Sector for Rebel activity when the monitoring station assigned to track the group abruptly lost contact with all six cruisers. When the first ships arrived on the scene twenty-seven minutes later, this was what they had found.

Krayt maneuvered his fighter in close to the nearest burnt out hulk twisting lazily in the vacuum. He examined the scorched hull, could see where the light armor plating had been vaporized and cracked. All around the wreck were the frozen corpses of the crew, who had been sucked out into space as the bulkhead disintegrated around them before they could don vac-suits. Six ships and three hundred crewmen and no survivors.

He flicked on his comm. "Captain Herrik, this was Imperial, alright," he reported solemnly.

"_You're certain?"_ the captain's voice burst through the cockpit speakers, loud in the tight confines.

"These readings are pretty conclusive," Krayt confirmed. "These hits were surgical. Add to that the only people who knew this group even existed and had the ability to see through their sensor stealth were us…" He let the sentence trail off, letting the implications speak for themselves.

"_Understood,"_ the captain said gravely.

"The Emperor isn't going to like this," Krayt said. _Not that he likes _anything, he added silently. "If word of this gets out, he could lose even more support to Pestage and his Shadow Empire."

"_I very much doubt it matters at this point, My Lord. The damage has been done; the Empire is splintering into a thousand different pieces, each seeking to put the whole thing back together with itself on the throne."_

"So we should just give in to Pestage or the Rebels?" Krayt scoffed. "The galaxy is in chaos. We don't have that luxury."

"_I don't see a clean way out of this war,"_ Herrik said, carefully dodging the question. But he might have saved the dance; his mind was open for Krayt to read and giving up is _exactly_ what Herrik thought they should do.

"The Empire will not yield to dissenters and rebels, Captain," the Sith said, putting a sharp edge to his words. "We _will_ take back what is ours and those who have caused us this hardship will pay dearly."

"_Yes, Milord."_ The captain knew the end of the conversation when he heard it.

His job finished, Krayt returned to the ship and went straight to his quarters. He kneeled on the holopad affixed to the floor and waited. After a few moments, a four times larger than life-size imaged of Darth Vader's nightmarish mask resolved into focus.

"What is it, Lord Krayt?" he boomed.

"I have completed my inspection of the debris, Master. It's as we suspected; Pestage has waged war on the Empire. There's no one else who could have known how to locate and disable these ships. Only someone with high-level clearance to access confidential Imperial files could have accomplished this."

Vader seemed to ponder over the news for a moment before responding. "But why would he seek out and destroy a recon group searching for _Rebel_ activity?" he asked.

"I don't have an answer to that question, Master. Perhaps to send you a message, that your best sensor stealth technology is of no use," Krayt offered.

"No," Vader said firmly. "No, I think it's something simpler than that. Have the _Firestorm_ conduct a detailed survey of the surrounding systems. Look for any unusual activity in the Sebiim Sector. It's possible there is something out there that we are not meant to find."

"I will begin the search at once, Master." Krayt stood and made a move to step down from the holoplate.

"Lord Krayt?" Vader called out, prompting the other Sith to pause.

"Yes, Master?"

"Pestage is not one to be underestimated. Show discretion." In other words, _be careful_.

Krayt nodded. "I will, Father."

"Report." Sate Pestage was an older man, quite tall and bony. _Lanky_ some would call him. Others would call him gaunt or skeletal. He did, in fact, resemble a man who had had the life sucked out of him slowly over a long period of time. His skin was sickly and pale, his eyes sunken and dark. His angular cheekbones and prominent chin, paired with a long face, only further enhanced his emaciated appearance. But despite his weak and frail look, Pestage was a powerful and dangerous man, much as the Emperor had been. Though he didn't have access the Force as his former master had, Sate's ruthlessness and his mind were very much on par with the late Emperor Palpatine's. He had, after all, served under the man for decades, since before the Clone Wars. Pestage was bound to pick up some of his traits.

"The captain of the _Admonitor_ reports the mission was a success, Your Majesty." Former Imperial Fleet Admiral Weston Hayne stood before Pestage looking very much like a man proudly addressing his Emperor.

"The _Firestorm_ took the bait, then?" Pestage asked, the hint of a smile parting his thin lips.

"Sensor readings would indicate that, yes," Hayne confirmed. "We have them leaving the site for the Jhiran system, followed by the Gavron system, Maarae system, and Gh'avros system. They seem to be jumping in, performing an extensive sensor scan of the system, and jumping on to the next in a spiral pattern. It would appear they are performing at least a rough scan of the whole Sebiim Sector." He checked his datapad. "By our estimates, it will take them at least two weeks to fully search the sector even once the reinforcements we expect they will call in arrive."

"All the while keeping their noses out of our business," Pestage purred. "Excellent. I knew Vader would take the bait. He was always seeing conspiracy where there was none," he explained. "He will assume that the attack on the stealth group was to protect something of ours from being found. To that end, he will order the entire sector turned upside down until he finds it, wasting precious men and ships where they are not needed. And when the search comes up empty, he will look all the more foolish for it."

"Aren't you worried he may suspect something? Through the Force, perhaps?"

Pestage shook his head. "Vader has never considered the consequences of his actions. He lives very much in the now. It was always the Emperor who had the far-flung sight, the vision that encompassed everything now and everything to come. No, if Vader is convinced I am hiding something in the Sebiim Sector, he'll tear it apart until he finds it without even considering he may have been deceived."

"That's brilliant, sir," Hayne fawned.

"Yes, I know."

"The _Beskar_ reports a clean sensor sweep, Milord. As do the _Demonic_ and the _Shadow's Edge_. All indications are that this is a wild bantha chase."

Krayt listened as Herrik finished giving his report on the bridge of the _Firestorm_. They were already a week into the sector sweep and had yet to turn up a single lead. "I'm inclined to agree with you, Captain. But we do as we are ordered. The Emperor demands that we search this sector and so we do."

"Of course, Lord Krayt. I didn't mean to disagree with Emperor Vader's orders."

Perhaps Krayt should have punished the man for such blatant unprofessional behavior, but he quietly agreed with his underlying commentary; the Emperor _had_ sent them on a wild bantha chase. He was so certain that Pestage was hiding something in the Sebiim Sector that he had ordered four ships taken from the war effort and assigned them to the _Firestorm_ in order to assist in the search. But there was simply nothing here to find. In point of fact, it was entirely likely that this was the exact reaction Pestage was _hoping_ Vader would have.

"Captain Herrik," Krayt began, taking note of the sudden reek of fear exuded by the officer, "open a line to Coruscant, the Imperial Palace. I need to speak with our Emperor. Let me know when you've made the connection; I'll be in my chambers."

"At once, My Lord." Herrik gave a curt bow and set off to carry out his orders, relieved to have escaped punishment.

Krayt left the bridge, attempting to appear as ordinary as possible, but he had a suspicion that his anxiety and annoyance were palpable enough for even those without the Force to notice.

Upon entering his chambers he immediately saw the flashing light on his holocomm unit indicating that he had a connection waiting. He fingered the comm switch. "Put it through." A moment later, Vader's image appeared in the air above the comm's projector plate.

"You've found something?" the Emperor asked eagerly.

"No, Father," Krayt said, carefully guarding his annoyance at Vader's overeager response to his call. Clearly the Emperor still hadn't entertained the idea that he could possibly be mistaken. "That's what I need to speak with you about. We've found nothing and frankly, I don't expect us to. I feel this is a waste of precious resources that _should_ be on the front lines fighting real enemies, not searching for some phantom menace." Even across the void he could sense Vader's growing anger.

"No!" Vader roared, terrifying even as a hologram. "Pestage is there, I know it! I will _not_ let him slip through my grasp!"

"Father, he's _not_ here—"

"He is! And you will find him and bring him before me. I will show him who wields the power of the Empire!"

"But—"

"You have your orders, Lord Krayt," Vader growled menacingly. "You will find him and you will bring him to me."

Krayt sighed. "Of course, Father." He saw the image of Vader reach outside the hologram's field of view and a moment later wink out as the Dark Lord broke the connection. "You're wrong, Father," he spoke aloud to an empty room. "About everything."

"It would seem Moffs Disra, Tyne, and Verada have been the latest to defect to Pestage's Shadow Empire." Colonel Mynd stood once more in front of Emperor Vader with bad news to report. "They have naturally taken their sector fleets with them, giving Pestage a total of thirteen, easily numbering several hundred thousand capital ships, cruisers, and starfighters. Just about the only _good _news is that the Rebels don't seem to distinguish between the true Empire and his; they attack anything bearing an Imperial transponder."

Vader sneered behind his helmet. "Three factions, each fighting a two-front war. A stalemate. We must tip the advantage in _our_ favor."

"The problem being, Your Majesty, that Pestage is likely echoing your exact words, as is Organa-Solo."

The Sith Lord gnashed his teeth at the mention of his daughter's name. Only she, Lord Krayt, and Vader himself knew the truth of her relation to the Sith. It would have been political suicide to have it exposed that the Emperor's own daughter was the leader of the Rebel Alliance. It was little surprise, however, that the woman would likewise choose to keep her family ties a secret. It would be equally disastrous for _her_ if the Rebels learned that the Emperor, their most hated enemy, was in fact her father. As it was, Imperial Intelligence sources reported a severe decline in support when Luke had defected and allied with the Empire after the Battle of Endor. Vader often toyed with the idea of leaking the information himself, wondering for whom it would be the most damning.

"She is not my concern," Vader rumbled. "The Rebels will be dealt with. They are still outgunned and outclassed. And despite the sympathy they have managed to cultivate, many of the systems claiming to support them would buckle at the first sign of Imperial retaliation. It is _Pestage_ who could tear this Empire apart before our eyes; he's already begun. _He_ is our primary concern."

Colonel Mynd bowed his head. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Go," Vader boomed. "I want every available agent we have trying to track down Pestage's hidden base. Put a call in to every bounty hunter from here to Nar Shaddaa. Tell them the one who delivers the location of the base and of Pestage himself will receive one billion Imperial credits."

Mynd's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I must have misheard you. Did you say one _billion_ credits?"

"I did. I would gladly pay ten times that to get that gutter slime cowering before me."

The colonel bowed again. "At once, Emperor."

Vader was left alone in his throne room. After he had killed Palpatine, he disbanded those ridiculous Red Guard. Where Sidious had chosen to appear weak to encourage his enemies to underestimate him, Vader chose to flaunt his strength. He required no guard, no protection of any kind. The Force was all the protection he needed. There was an advantage to be had in allowing your enemies to underestimate you, but Vader needed no such advantage.

The Emperor decided to retire to his hyperbaric chamber and meditate on matters. Only there, free of his ebony prison, did he ever feel as though he could _really_ find clarity. Settling down into his reclining chair, he dialed the chamber's settings up to match those of his suit and eagerly removed his helmet. Though it had encased him for nearly three decades, he still had moments of claustrophobia as though he had just donned the armor yesterday. His special chamber liberated him, if for only short periods of time.

Cocooned in the three meter wide black sphere, Vader could feel the coolness of the recycled air blowing softly across his exposed skin. The bright interior lights hurt his naked eyes but he didn't care. He spent nearly all of his time seeing the galaxy through optical filters. If a few moments' discomfort were the price to pay for using his own eyes, so be it. He took a deep, painful breath, savoring the sensation, the very taste of the air. His suit breathed mechanically, injecting the air directly into his lungs and bypassing his airway altogether. And while it allowed him to speak and breath at the same time, he would gladly surrender that little luxury in return for the ability to draw his own breath again. It was an irony not lost on him that the most powerful being in the known universe was also likely one of the most fragile. Outside of his suit, even the considerable power of the Dark Side was insufficient sustain him.

He sneered, his many facial scars making such an expression quite painful to perform. But he was Darth Vader. His entire existence was pain. The Sith embraced pain, turned it inward, transformed it into strength. Taking note of every scar, every sore rubbed raw by a poorly designed suit feature, every burn caused by overheating electronics, every limb stump, never fully healed due to ill-fitting prosthetics, he embraced his pain and focused it into his meditation.

Lord Sidious could see the future as easily as one would pluck a fruit from a tree. He could view every potential outcome of every decision before it was made and he did so without so much as breaking a sweat. Vader, on the other hand, had never been nearly so adept at untangling the future. When he was younger, his only forays into the future had been in the form of prophetic dreams, first of the death of his mother, then his wife. But those experiences had been chaotic, unfocused, diffuse. They were a ragged mixture of images, sounds, and emotions, and they were mere glimpses of future events with no clarity, no context to draw from. And truth be told, in later years, he had come to believe that the visions of Padmé—perhaps even those of his mother—had been planted by Sidious himself as a way to push young Anakin ever further toward the Dark Side.

Nevertheless, Vader had since successfully peered into the future on occasion, though admittedly he still found himself frustratingly amateur regardless of how often he practiced. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his enemies, on the war the Empire fought on two growing fronts. To his surprise, an image began to work its way into his mind's eye. An image that greatly disturbed him.

_Luke?_

There was no interpretation necessary: Darth Krayt was the key player in his vision of the future. And he did not at all like what he was seeing.

Shadow Emperor Pestage stood at the forward viewport of his flagship, the _Ice Dagger_, and watched as the planet rotated lazily below. The world, a small and little known planet called Hyperion and codenamed "Bastion," had come to be his home and the base of operations for his soon-to-be Empire. It wasn't as glamorous as Coruscant and a scant few even knew of its existence, but it would do for now. Once Vader was destroyed and the rest of the Empire absorbed, then he could take his proper place as Galactic Emperor and rule from the Imperial Palace.

Admiral Hayne stepped aboard the bridge and quickly made his way over to Pestage. "The arrangements have been made, Your Majesty," he almost sang.

"Excellent." Pestage allowed himself a grin. The end was in sight. Just a little bit further and Coruscant would be his.

"Even better, My Lord. I have received reports that Lord Krayt has returned to Imperial Center. If we time this right, we'll have _both_ of them."

Pestage raised an eyebrow, momentarily alarmed at this sudden change. "Lord Krayt? But he should be in the Sebiim Sector. Has the _Firestorm_ been recalled?"

The admiral shook his head. "No. My report says that he left the _Firestorm_ in his personal starfighter yesterday. He landed on Imperial Center less than an hour ago."

The Emperor stroked his chin. "This will require us to accelerate our plans some, but I believe we can make this work. Give the order, Admiral. And inform Helm to set in a course for Imperial Center. Transmit identical orders to the rest of the fleet."

"My Lord?"

"By the time we arrive, the Empire will be headless and ripe for the picking. Coruscant will fall. And whomsoever is in possession of Coruscant is in possession of the Empire. By the end of the day, Admiral, the galaxy shall be ours."

Darth Krayt stormed through the labyrinthine corridors of the Imperial Palace, following his father's Dark presence all the way up to the audience chamber, where, to his surprise, the Emperor seemed to be waiting for him.

He strode into the cavernous throne room without bothering to announce himself. The reason for his presence was about as far from formal as Tatooine was from Coruscant. His concern for protocol was decidedly non-existent.

"Father," he said as he marched up the grand staircase to the platform upon which sat the Emperor's throne.

"Son," Vader responded.

Krayt steeled himself. "You know why I'm here."

"I have foreseen it," Vader answered in an eerie imitation of Palpatine.

"You've run this Empire into the ground," Krayt said, keeping his voice deadly calm. "Your obsession with Pestage has clouded your judgment. You waste ships and manpower that are needed elsewhere just to satisfy your own fixation. Will you stop this vendetta you have against Pestage and get back to fighting the war?"

"I will not," Vader croaked coolly, matching Krayt's even tone.

Lord Krayt narrowed his yellow eyes and snatched the lightsaber from his belt, igniting its crimson blade with a startlingly loud _snap-hiss_ in the otherwise silent room. "Then you leave me no choice, Father. I _must_ destroy you."

Emperor Vader likewise retrieved his weapon and lit its humming blade. "You will try," the Dark Lord growled.

With a surprising burst of speed, Krayt leapt at Vader, his blade held high for a downward strike aimed at the elder Sith Lord's neck. Although his appearance would suggest otherwise, Lord Vader was exceedingly agile. He'd had decades to learn his suit's limitations and abilities. His super-human legs bent and launched him fully five meters into the air over his son's head. Performing a mid-air somersault, he landed at the base of the platform's staircase. Almost before the heels of his massive boots touched the deckplate, he locked his blade and hurled it up at Lord Krayt like a spinning red disc of death.

Krayt recovered quickly and reached out with the Force, freezing the spinning blade mere centimeters from his torso. Mimicking Vader, he leapt over the motionless lightsaber and somersaulted through the air. He landed just behind the Emperor, too close to use his blade. Instead he heaved himself at the Dark Lord's back, slamming into the cyborg as hard as he could with his right shoulder. Vader was sent stumbling onto the stairs with a grunt.

"You'll need to do better than that, Father," Krayt taunted in classic Dün Möch style.

Vader held out a hand and called his lightsaber to it. In the span of a single heartbeat, he was rearmed and on his feet, hurtling towards Krayt with murder in his black mechanical heart.

Their blades met and squealed in protest. Vader had the advantage in close quarters; he was taller and his cybernetic limbs made him considerably stronger than an average human even without the Force to aid him. Krayt knew that if he let Vader get in too close and stay there, he would have no chance. So he reached down into his store of the Force and pushed with all of his might. Vader was sent flying back into the stairs. His cape billowed out behind him and gave the Sith Lord the appearance of a black comet soaring through the air.

Taking advantage of Vader's momentary disorientation, Krayt struck down with all of his might. But Vader's blade was already there to intercept. With a powerful backhand, Vader sent Krayt stumbling backwards seeing stars. He advanced on his son.

Krayt's vision was blurred but he could hear his father's lumbering approach. All he could do was take a blind leap away from the sound and hope whatever Vader rattled loose resolved itself soon. The impact had been _hard_; Krayt wouldn't be at all surprised to find out he had a concussion. If he took another similar hit to the head like that, it could very easily prove fatal. He needed to end this quickly.

The pain and flashing stars subsided and Krayt could see again. He started to formulate a plan. He and his father were too evenly matched in the Force. He couldn't rely on it to gain him the advantage, and Vader's physical size and strength gave him an enormous advantage there. But what gave Vader his enormous strength was also his greatest weakness: his suit. Vader was a true cyborg. He literally could not survive without his mechanical parts, and those, like every other electronic device, were full of delicate circuits and sensitive pieces of equipment.

Using the Force to rip panels off the walls, Krayt begun flinging the heavy durasteel plates at the advancing Sith Lord, forcing him to dodge, deflect, or simply cleave them in two, much the same way Vader had tried to distract him on Cloud City all those years ago. But unlike Vader on Cloud City, Krayt wasn't trying to distract and disorient, he was looking for something. With the Force, he continued to viciously tear apart the walls, throwing panels, sconces, computer terminals, and anything else in his way at Vader. Soon Vader would tire of this game and then Krayt would be in trouble.

But with a flood of relief, Krayt found what he was looking for. Locking his blade the same way Vader had moments before, he hurled toward his father. Vader merely sidestepped and allowed the flying lightsaber to pass over his right shoulder and slash through a thick bundle of cables set into the wall. Sparks exploded in a shower like fireworks and Krayt's lightsaber shorted out and dropped to the floor.

"You missed," Vader snarled.

"Actually, Father, I didn't." Taking a deep breath, he summoned as much Dark Side power as he could muster and launched it through his fingertips at Vader. Within half a second, the immense surge of energy overwhelmed Krayt's mechanical right hand, which exploded at the wrist. Krayt cried out in agony but funneled that pain into more power. Vader seemed to absorb the energy for a second or two, but then it proved too powerful even for him to withstand. With one last burst of energy, Krayt hurled his father into the cloven bundle of power cables that had been hidden within the wall. As Vader made contact with them, sparks flew in blinding bursts and energy arced and crackled over his black armor. The massive electrical shocks caused his limbs to spasm uncontrollably and the more he tried to extricate himself, the more he seemed to tangle himself in the wires.

Vader roared out in agony and fury. Every one of those delicate circuits was being melted into slag; the sensitive electronics that regulated all of his biological systems and kept him alive were frying. Though it seemed to last forever, it couldn't have taken more than a minute in reality. Vader finally stopped thrashing not because he was dead but because the electrical breaker had been tripped and cut power to the cables. Krayt carefully approached his father, sensing the Emperor's life ebbing away. With the Force, he ripped away the iconic black helmet which had been many unfortunate beings' last sight before death. Beneath the frightening visage was the pale and sickly face of a man; just a man.

"You were weak, Father," Krayt said at last.

Vader lazily settled his eyes on his son, gasping his few remaining breaths. "So I was," he wheezed, barely able to get the words out.

Krayt knelt beside Vader. "I will assume the throne, rebuild the Empire into something truly grand."

"Yes," Vader coughed. "Yes, I believe you will."

"I'll pass on what you've taught me," Krayt swore. "The Sith _will_ live."

Vader nodded weakly. "Finish me, Luke. Do not leave me like this."

Krayt stood. "Mercy is not the way of the Sith," he responded coldly. "You won't receive any from me, nor would I have expected any from you."

Darth Krayt, Dark Lord of the Sith, turned and ascended the stairs, leaving his father to die in agony and humiliation, still tangled in power lines, looking like a macabre marionette. He turned around and lowered himself onto what was now _his_ throne. He fingered the comm. "Colonel Mynd, this is Emperor Krayt. Your presence is required in the throne room immediately."

"We're coming out of hyperspace in thirty seconds, sir," the helm officer called up to Admiral Hayne.

"Thank you, lieutenant." The admiral took a deep breath and prepared himself for what was about to happen. He always knew this was coming, of course, but when presented with its imminence, he found himself trembling with anxiety. He moved up beside Sate Pestage, who occupied the bridge's command chair and sat staring out at the multicolored hyperspace tunnel. "A matter of seconds now, Your Majesty."

"Yes, we're very nearly there, Admiral."

"Ten seconds," called out the lieutenant. "Six-five-four-three-two-one: We have reentered real space." There was a pause. "Admiral, I'm not registering the other ships."

"What?" Pestage exclaimed, sitting forward. "Where are they?"

"Wait," said the lieutenant. "I have several ships appearing on our scopes. It looks like…" The lieutenant trailed off.

"It looks like what?" Pestage demanded.

"It's the Rebels, sir! It's a massive Rebel fleet!"

Pestage's eyes widened and he snapped his head up to the admiral. "What are _they_ doing here? Now of all times?"

"I contacted them, Your Majesty," Hayne responded calmly.

"You _what_?" Pestage roared, jumping to his feet. "This is treason!"

In the blink of an eye, Hayne had drawn his service pistol and had it aimed squarely between Pestage's eyes. "Palpatine's Empire was treason," Hayne said. "Long live the Republic!" He squeezed the trigger and in a blinding flash of red light, Pestage collapsed back into the chair, smoke wafting up from the blackened ruin of his face. Before bridge security had time to react, Hayne turned the gun on himself. "The Alliance lives!" he cried before ending his own life. Before his body even hit the deck, the first shots fired from the Rebel ships began to pound the _Ice Dagger_'s shields high above Coruscant.

Colonel Mynd rushed into the throne room, his heart pounding in his chest. Emperor _Krayt_? Did that mean that Vader was dead?

It took only a moment of surveying the scene to surmise what had happened and determine the outcome. The far left wall had been torn apart and the dark figure of Vader appeared hopelessly tangled in what looked to be power cables. And directly ahead, sitting on the throne atop the large platform, was Darth Krayt, framed by the enormous transparisteel window behind him. He looked battered and bloody and he was missing his mechanical right hand, but he was clearly in better shape than Vader.

Mynd climbed the stairs cautiously and approached the new Emperor. "You called, Milord?"

"Yes. As your new Emperor, I require access to all military files, access codes, secure information, everything. I'm going to win us this war against the Rebels and then I'm going to crush Pestage and his Empire into dust."

Mynd gulped. So this was it then. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Your Majesty."

Krayt raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And might I ask why?" The colonel was tense, nervous, and terrified. All understandable given the circumstances; however, something felt off about the man's demeanor. Suddenly Krayt didn't think the carnage in the throne room had anything to do with the colonel's emotions.

"Because you are not the true heir to the throne."

Krayt's eyes flashed with anger. "And just who is, Colonel?"

Colonel Mynd reached into his pocket and produced a small metal cylinder with a simple red button set into the end. "My Emperor Sate Pestage," he said and depressed the button.

The throne room was lit up by a tremendous explosion that vaporized the two men where they stood on the platform. The Emperor's throne was sent crashing through the transparisteel window where it soared out into the Coruscanti air traffic trailing smoke and flame.

"Now, fulfill your destiny. Take your father's place at my side!" It was the Emperor, approaching him from the grand staircase. They were still aboard the second Death Star.

With a jolt, Luke came back to reality, his breath taken away by the intense vision. He was standing over his father, staring at his own gloved hand and lost in thought. Vader lay sprawled on the ground, holding up an arm in a futile gesture of defense. He deactivated his emerald blade and turned to face the shriveled old man. "Never," he said finally, throwing his lightsaber to the side. "I'll never turn to the Dark Side. You've failed, Your Highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me." He nodded over his shoulder to the figure of Vader, still lying prone on the deck.

For a few breaths, the Emperor said nothing but the rage in his eyes said it all. Finally, he spoke: "So be it, _Jedi_."


End file.
